


in the game of the Westeros Song Festival, you win or you die

by janie_tangerine



Series: the jaimebrienne spite countdown to season eight [21]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (yes my country is insane no I'm not denying it), Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Bad Humor, Brienne is the Best, Contests, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE SANREMO FESTIVAL IS: TOO BAD YOU WILL IN A MOMENT, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Metafiction, Multi, Musical References, Musicians, Not For Cersei Fans I Warned You, POV Alternating, Robb Stark is a Gift, Singing, Social Media, Spitefic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 19:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18395228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Brienne takes part in the famed Westeros Festival of Music and Songs.It goes way better than she had imagined.





	in the game of the Westeros Song Festival, you win or you die

**Author's Note:**

> Good lord, this is gonna be long.
> 
> First thing, TODAY'S ANON OF DREAMS happens to be this one gem:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Never mind that anon is factually incorrect and it just takes watching an episode of this show to realize it... IT WAS THE PERFECT EXCUSE FOR THE CRACK AU OF THE CENTURY.
> 
> Now, for premise (anyone Italian reading this is probably already cackling but I'm assuming most people here aren't so I'll try to be brief): the [Sanremo festival](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanremo_Music_Festival) is our most popular song festival in which all songs are played with an orchestra whose winner automatically goes to Eurovision to represent our fair country. The Sanremo festival is also... I mean, usually self-celebration in which 80% of the contestants have been trying to win it since the eighties (if not longer) and if you aren't into *typical* Italian music it's generally Not Your Thing because there's usually three objective good songs and seventeen flukes. Now, the voting works with a mix of televote, journalists present in the place and quality jury (it's all explained in the wiki entry) which usually means that the least bad of the options voted from home USUALLY wins (when it was only televote we had horrors like the son of Italy's former monarchs *almost* won in 2010 with the orchrstra protesting it [here if you want more info](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanremo_Music_Festival_2010)). [This](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanremo_Music_Festival_2019) is the Wiki for the 2019 competition and [this](https://www.thelocal.it/20190211/singer-mahmood-won-sanremo-2019-and-salvini-not-impressed) is a summary of the idiocy that went down after.
> 
> NOW, specifically: what happened this year was that the guy who arrived second was an absolute ass because he was sure he was going to win (with the most boring song ever sklgjlkds) and people mounted a media mess because the winner (who had an actual good song) had an Egyptian father and says ONE line in Arabic in the song so OF COURSE WHAT IS HAPPENING TO *ITALIAN MUSIC* and second-runner bitched about it for a month and refused meeting the press later and shit and it was so ridiculous that even people who don't watch Sanremo (ie yours truly) caught wind of it, and I was discussing it with a few friends online and they were like WAIT BUT AN AU WHERE BRIENNE IS THE WINNER AND CERSEI IS THE RUNNER-UP and I went like OMG YES IT'S PERFECT FOR THAT PROMPT. So: have the FUCKING SANREMO AU OF DOOM. More notes in the end because I don't want to make this more heavy, but BEFORE YOU START:
> 
> \- Brienne's song is the adapted translation of the winner, Mahmood's [Soldi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22lISUXgSUw) [Money] - I basically changed the subject from his father to something *she* could sing about but I mean if you hear the music it SHOULD more or less match my adaptation ([translation of the original](https://wiwibloggs.com/2019/02/11/mahmoods-soldi-lyrics-tell-a-painful-story-about-living-without-a-father-figure/) if you're interested);  
> \- The two bits I translated of Cersei's are from the actual second classified, Ultimo's [I tuoi particolari](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2izsbwDEsk) (spoilers: IT'S TERRIBLE I HATE IT);  
> \- Robb, Jon and Sam's trio is based on [Il volo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Il_Volo) (if you watch Eurovision you should be familiar with them :P);  
> \- TV, Smiles and Dragons is a play on an Italian magazine named Tv Sorrisi e Canzoni (TV, Smiles and Songs) which covers the thing extensively and every year after the winning night publishes a cover with the people in the top three;  
> \- Pycelle's attitude re Cersei is based on what the show's actor thinks of her ;)
> 
> This is pretty much what I think you need to know before reading it to not miss anything specific but I'll have more notes at the end if you're brave enough to get to the end. ;) See you asap with the next spitefic while I saunter back downwards. XD

 

**TV, SMILES AND DRAGONS: A GUIDE TO WESTEROS’S SHOW BUSINESS**

_**Daenerys Targaryen Chosen to Host the 69th Dragonstone Music Festival** _

by Gendry Waters

 

 

> It doesn’t come as a surprise that, for the second year in a row, the world-famous singer-author Daenerys Targaryen, known to everyone in Westeros for hits such as _This Little Great Dragon_ , _Long Canal_ , _Essosi Afternoon_ and _Walking Through the Dothraki Desert_ , has been chosen to host the long-running Westeros’s Festival of Music and Songs: last year’s edition was an absolute hit as we all remember, and she has declared herself delighted to host it again. She certainly hasn’t wasted time and put herself to work, having already decided her co-hosts and the line up: this year, she’ll be flanked by veteran actor Jaqen H’gar and comedian Dolorus Edd.
> 
> We still don’t know the entire line-up, even if we can sadly confirm that fan-favorite orchestra conductor Jaime Lannister will not come back in his usual mansion after the car accident that cost him his hand a few months ago, but we’re delighted to announce that he will be back as a guest from the audience. However, we know that his sister Cersei and brother Tyrion will be in the shortlist for the twenty big names contending for the title, along with Stannis Baratheon and the Crows, aka Jon Snow, Robb Stark and Sam Tarly, who as we all remember won against all odds three years ago. We’ll keep you updated until the big day with all the last news and exclusive backstage pictures from the festival: only on _Tv, Smiles and Dragons_ , the only guide to Westeros’s show business since seventy years!

 

***

 

As Jaime sits in the audience and stares at his brother and Bronn’s _obvious_ troll entry, he decides that if there is an upside to having lost his fucking right hand is that he’s _not_ having to conduct any orchestra for this edition of this blasted idiotic _horrid_ tasteless mess of a music competition.

Now, never mind that he only is in this field because his father is what he is and when he realized that Tyrion and Cersei could sing but _he_ couldn’t, he sent him to take forced music lessons that he couldn’t opt out of and he figured that _conducting_ was the least bad option he had.

Admittedly, it wasn’t too terrible and it paid well and he _did_ enjoy it, not counting _having to work for the Dragonstone festival_ once per year because since he’s good-looking everyone noticed him in the pit and apparently he has a following in between a _lot_ of age ranges. They also paid him well for sitting in the audience and playing the sarcastic commenter role, which is another good thing while he figures out what the fuck he wants to do with his life now, because he’s honestly not interested in parading his lack of a right hand in front of _any_ audience.

Maybe he could be a critic. Just so that he could destroy Cersei’s next record, which is also the whole goddamned reason he doesn’t have the hand anymore.

Fine, it’s on _him_ that he had to go for the drunk drive he _should_ have not gone for after he told her he didn’t appreciate that half of the songs in it were _obviously_ about him and said things that he _didn’t_ want anyone else to know about and she refused because according to her he was trying to _stifle her creativity_ , unless he’d consider resuming their fling. Now, since he ended it categorically the moment she about ruined the career of this girl Melara Hawthorne who had competed last year at this same shitshow of a festival and had dared flirting with him during Ygritte Giantsbane’s usual post-Festival tv show (which is _way_ better than the actual kermesse, too bad that this year there’s no way he could handle participating given that it runs until three AM and he’s _not_ in the right shape for it) and that might have made him realize that he _couldn’t_ fool himself about how unhealthy things were any longer… he had no intention to resume the fling.

So: she refused, he drunk-drove his car, he crashed, he lost the hand, bad idea all around.

And not only she kept the songs. She even brought one to the competition.

Anyway, even not counting Cersei, problem is: until now, there has been _one_ good song. As in, Stannis Baratheon’s and Davos Seaworth’s. Now, a heartfelt ballad about kids with learning disabilities being stuck in schools that don’t cater to them was _not_ the last thing anyone expected of Baratheon — who has always been a critics’s darling and is famous for thoughtful, well-written, _long_ songs that deal with _serious_ subjects. But then it turns out that in the middle it has a rap section that no one knew about beforehand because Baratheon didn’t warn _anyone_ that he had convinced his long-time friend (who has definitely been a star of the pseudo-underground rap scene in the Stormlands for years) to show up _at the Dragonstone festival_ when it’s the last place you’d expect to hear _rap music_. Anyway: _that_ one is a good song.

Tyrion and Bronn’s _troll song_ about how much Tyrion _apparently_ enjoys riding their father’s golden limo is _not_ , even if at least it’s amusing. And it’s going to most likely piss everyone else off, so fair enough, let them have their fun. He knows they were trolling on purpose.

Other than them… Cersei’s song is honestly _atrocious_ — he’s heard it a hundred times, sadly, and he still can’t remember the music, never mind that he has a feeling that _he_ is the subject of it and he really doesn’t appreciate it. Especially when at some point it goes like, _I miss all those little details of yours, like when you told me, «You feel lonely because you aren’t the way you look», and it hurts to say it now_ , and… she seriously goes and sings _that_ when their entire relationship was based on what _he_ could do for her and not the contrary and when _she_ had made the point of telling him for years that _they were the same person because they looked the same_? Yeah, no, _fuck that_. Sideways. Meanwhile Stark, Snow and Tarly are… well. Those kids can sing and they have an excellent technique with the whole three tenors deal they have going on, _except_ that they sing stuff that Jaime thinks would have sounded original some seventy years ago and he honestly doesn’t get _how_ people love them so much or how they’re such a hit outside the North, but at least they’re _nice_ kids. And in between them and Cersei, well, they’re definitely getting voted from home into the top five if he knows how this circus works. He merely hopes that whoever’s in both jury and press room this year does _not_ vote for Cersei’s atrocious ballad.

Also, they’ve heard half of the singers, it’s _eleven PM_ , the dragons in the back of the stage look so tacky he could cry, but then again the dragon _from which the conductor stands in the pit_ is even worse, and Daenerys has sung a duet with _every single special guest they invited_.

They’re never going to be done before one in the morning if he’s lucky.

 _If he’s lucky_.

— —

Jaime is _not_ lucky, but he’s acted in this circus enough times that he knows how it goes by now, which means that the last singer is announced at one-thirty AM.

 _One fucking thirty_.

Apparently, she’s a woman, and while she’s virtually unknown — he’s never heard of this _Brienne Tarth_ before — she won the edition for young singers, which means she has a spot in the main competition. Jaime has no idea — he had been under surgery when _that_ one competition happened. From what Dolorus Edd says as he introduces her, she’s twenty, she writes her own songs, she doesn’t have a band and she usually sings just with an acoustic guitar, but obviously this time she also has the rest of the orchestra.

Well, he decides, can’t be worse than the shitshow he’s seen until now — if it was up to him, Baratheon would win hands down, but he’s _never_ going to have the audience vote, so he’d better not even hope that he lands a top five.

Edd _finally_ says that it’s time for the last contestant.

Then she walks on stage and Jaime realizes at once that _this_ is not your usual Dragonstone Festival competitor.

For one, she’s _not_ dressed following the code. Most women who sing here come in the standard gowns, make-up and silks, at most they’ll show up in fancy pantsuits if they want to toe the line, but this Brienne Tarth shows up in ripped jeans, combat boots, a blue tank top with a slight v-neck that does nothing to make her meager breasts look larger and a black leather jacket covering two shoulders that are _definitely_ wider than Jaime’s. She’s also fucking _tall_ , he notices as she moves up on stage, in front of the microphone, and she has put no make-up. Since he’s in first row, he can _absolutely_ see how her skin is covered in large, dark freckles over pale skin that she didn’t even try to cover up. Her blonde hair is tied in a messy, unkempt bun and her nose has definitely been broken more than once, and he _can_ see at once why she forewent the dress code. She _does_ have some astonishing eyes, though. Large, blue, clear, with long eyelashes, and she’s looking at the whole lot of them like she wishes she was anywhere but here. She has an acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder and the music starts the moment she plays the first chord.

Jaime leans back and listens, and —

_Well._

He can hear from the first beats that at least it’s _catchy_. Definitely more than anything else he’s heard until now.

Then she moves closer to the microphone and starts singing.

 

_It’s unbearably hot coming home_

_Daddy, don’t worry, I’m coming early_

_You had warned me they might’ve been liars_

_I thought it was love, it was something else_

_One bought me champagne on a date_

_Another said we were bound together by fate —_

 

 _Holy shit_ , Jaime thinks, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t want to fall asleep at once anymore. _Holy fucking shit, she’s good_. She has a quite lovely voice that toes the line really well between rough and womanly regardless of her less-than-feminine looks, she _can_ use it, and she’s actually _feeling_ the damned song. Wait, what was the title? _Money_? He thinks it was. And from the way she’s singing, he can feel that it’s _personal_.

 

_They offered me cigarettes, asked me how I felt_

_They asked me how I felt, how I felt, how I felt_

_I think they might’ve known how I felt, how I felt_

 

Huh. That has a nice rhythm. You could clap along to it, even if she’s not doing it. She’s also singing it like she’s very, _very_ angry about whatever it is that went on.

 

_I’m here trying to think quickly to see if you want to fuck with me_

_And I have no time for your apologies after finding out who you are_

_It’s hard to be around you lot when your pride has gone_

_You changed in the span of a day_

_Just tell me the truth_

 

Okay, _now_ he knows why she’s the last, of course the Westeros Broadcast Service won’t air profanities when children might be up. But now she’s singing faster, the orchestra following her, and wait a _moment_ —

 

_You only wanted the money, the money_

_That was the only thing you cared for_

_You never gave a fuck about me_

_You asked me how I felt, how I felt, how I felt_

_And how is it going for me now?_

 

What the fuck — is she _seriously_ singing about some guys who asked her out on a bet? Because _that_ is how it fucking sounds to him, and if it’s the case then _gods_ , the universe really dealt her a shit hand, hasn’t it? But given how angry she sounds, he has a feeling it has to be something like _that_.

 

_You never said what you should have_

_Your betrayal was a bullet in my chest_

_Take all your false compliments_

_You lied to me but now you know I know_

_After I come back Daddy’ll ask me_

_How I feel, how I feel, how I feel_

_But he already knows how I feel, how I feel_

 

At that, she _does_ let the guitar go and _does_ clap her hands.

Jaime can’t follow suit for obvious reason, but the guy sat next to him does, and a moment later everyone who’s not sleeping on their seats is following suit and she looks delighted at seeing the room following her. Well. It _is_ catchy.

Sure as hell _way_ better than most of what he’s heard until now.

 

_I’m here trying to think quickly to see if you want to fuck with me_

_And I have no time for your apologies after finding out who you are_

_It’s hard to be around you lot when your pride has gone_

_Took me too long to understand that_

_The only thing you all wanted from me_

_It was money_

_That was the only thing you cared for_

_Before then you texted me until late, until late_

_Asking me how I felt, how I felt, how I felt_

 

Huh. She doesn’t lose her edge though — she’s a goddamned _good_ performer, for the slot they gave her and for where she’s ended up. Woah. Does he actually genuinely like this damned song? Fuck him.

He thinks he does.

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you_

_You said staring right up at me_

_I love you, it sounded real_

_And I thought you might be the right one_

_And I never wanted any money from you_

 

She sounds literally pained now, her hands grasping the microphone, and he can see that she’s itching to actually move on that stage but that she knows that whatever her usual live antics are, she can’t perform them here. Too bad, because she’s wasted in this circus, and she deserves a better stage this dragon-induced nightmare. Jaime is still trying to quench down the need to look for her backstage, ask _who_ inspired her this song, find Sandor Clegane (he’s in extremely good relations with the former bodyguard his father had forced on all three of them a while ago) and tell him to punch all of them in the face.

 

_It’s hard to be around you lot when your pride has gone_

_You changed in the span of a day_

_Just tell me the truth_

_You only wanted the money, the money_

_That was the only thing you cared for_

_You never called, but I should have known_

_Yesterday you were all here, now you’re not_

_You used to ask how I felt, how I felt, how I felt_

_Well, you already damn well know_

 

When it’s over, he ends realizes it was so intense he hadn’t noticed he had been holding his breath. And he can’t even _clap_ , fuck it, but the rest of the place _does_ , even if not as wildly as it had for the Crows or his damned sister, but then again… fair enough. It’s late and half of them are asleep, and Brienne looks _floored_ by the attention anyway. She smiles before bowing stiffly and leaving.

Huh.

She did have a really pretty smile.

For a moment, he wonders, _would I be a creep if_ —

Then he decides that if he’s trusted his gut until now and it never betrayed him, and every damned thing he ever regrets doing was because he went along with Cersei or his father and _didn’t_ follow it, he’s just going to go for it.

She’s honestly the _only_ genuine article he’s seen this place offer (beyond Baratheon, but Baratheon being here is pretty much the organizers wanting to have _one_ classy song so the critics can give it the awards and the actual prize is taken by the trash that no one remembers two years later), that was the best song he’s heard in ages and he kind of wishes he could have conducted that orchestra while she was singing it.

Alas.

He stands up and goes backstage. 

 

***

 

The moment Brienne is offstage, she downs half a bottle of water and decides that she’s going to sleep this entire circus off until tomorrow evening at least — fuck, it’s been one day, this entire thing has insane rhythms and she wouldn’t have even come here if her agent hadn’t insisted that it was _good advertising._

Yeah, except that _obviously_ she’s not going to get advertised when she performs for _last_ in a competition where your final placement is based on _people voting from home_ and at this point everyone is asleep? Sure, if the journalists and the quality jury — which is not the _critics,_ that one category’s going to go for Stannis Baratheon and they _should_ because it’s obviously the best song this round — that starts voting from day two like her song then she might have a chance to not end up _last_ , but going last… yeah. Not going to happen. And of course she went last anyway, who’d have _her_ performing in the first five? Well.

At least she participated. It’s going to be in her CV, if everything else fails.

“Uh, Brienne?”

She turns, finding Dolorus Edd in front of her — thankfully he’s the _least_ intimidating person around here, out of the hosts. H'ghar is just… _weird_ , and Daenerys can be adorable but she can really be _too much_ and Brienne can barely even follow the flow here.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going _now_ or do you have ten minutes? Because there’s someone in the organization who wants to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay, I wasn’t, technically. Why?”

“I’m _not_ getting into this,” Edd says, and a moment later he leaves and —

“Miss Tarth?”

Brienne had expected _everything_ but finding herself in front of _fucking Jaime Lannister_ , who she had noticed in the audience before but carefully avoided looking at because fucking up your first performance because a guy you used to crush on while watching this same damned competition when you were seventeen is staring at you is Not A Good Idea.

And now he’s looking at her — _up_ at her, shit, he’s slightly shorter, of course he is, with… an _intrigued_ face?

“Mr. Lannister,” she says, hoping she’s _not_ going to faint.

“Please,” he says, “do away with that nonsense. I’m thirty, not _sixty_ , and I’m not even my father, and given that not counting Baratheon you have the only good song I’ve heard this year I don’t think you need to be _that_ formal.”

“Oh. Uhm, all right, then — feel free to, not be formal?” Fuck, she’s sounding like a twelve-year old and he’s smiling up at her with that smirk of his that _might_ have made her feel things that were hardly chaste back in the day.

“Excellent, _Brienne_ ,” he says. “So, I’ve got three questions for you.”

“… Ask away?”

“Is that song about some assholes who asked you out for money?”

 _How — how the hell did he guess_?

“… Yes,” she admits, “but — how did you — my _agent_ didn’t get it.”

“Your _agent_ ,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” she admits. “Apparently it was too obscure and too angry and I should have brought another one, but — this one was personal. And I liked it better.”

“What the fuck,” he blurts, “it was _obvious_. Anyway, the second question was whether those people are in the music business because I would be delighted to make sure they have to change jobs.”

“No,” she says, feeling like she might faint all over again. “It was… people I knew in high school. But thank you for the thought, anyway.”

“Please, one can hear that they must have been some pieces of work,” he says, not sounding pleased by her answer whatsoever.

“And — the third question?” She asks, tentatively.

“Oh, right. There’s a place for the artists that’s open all night long. Fancy grabbing a bite with me?”

“… You want to _have dinner with me_?”

“I want to discuss music with the only singer I’ve heard lately who _didn’t_ make me fall asleep when she was the last person in competition. And possibly I want to know who’s your agent so I can advise you a better one.”

Thing is: he’s obviously not joking even if he’s smiling openly and his eyes are bright and he’s being the easygoing self she always saw on television.

And right _now_ she doesn’t feel like sleeping at all.

“All right,” she says, “sounds good.”

He grins back at her so brightly she’s almost blinded.

She doesn’t know what the hell is happening here, but suddenly she’s _not_ regretting having decided to participate, and not just for her CV.

 

***

 

“Guys,” Theon says as the lights turn down, looking at his colleagues in the press room, “we’re sticking with Tarth, aren’t we?”

“Of course we’re fucking sticking with Tarth,” Gendry Waters from _Tv, Smiles and Dragons_ echoes. “I mean, Stannis is obviously the best but he’s got the critics to vote for him and even if we vote him first now he’s never going to get enough support from the people at home. That song’s too good for the fourteen year-olds who’ll _totally_ vote for the Crows or Cersei.”

“Hey,” Tormund Giantsbane from the _Wildling Bunch_ says, “not that I’m not backing you up when it comes to voting for Tarth because that song rocks, but aren’t you and Robb Stark —”

Theon groans. “ _Yes_ , we’ve been together since he won three years ago. Well, with the other two. _Yes_ , we’re engaged. _No_ , I’m still not voting for him because he knows I hate his genre, and if you forgot, we met because I _didn’t_ vote for them when they participated last time, and he’s bearing me zero ill will for _that_ because he can distinguish wanting to support your partner and doing your job fairly, so he’s not going to leave me at the altar because I picked the song _I actually liked_.”

“You’re adorable,” Tormund’s colleague Val echoes him, “and I’m sticking with Tarth, too. Guys. This year there’s, like, no contest when it comes to deciding, there are _two_ good songs and she’s the one that the critics are going to ignore, so I also vote we go for her.”

“I don’t know,” Edmure Tully from the _Riverrun Courier_ says, “I think there’d be merit in voting also Lannister and his partner in crime just for the trolling value.”

Theon snorts loudly — fair enough. “Yeah, but they’re never getting voted from home and sure as hell the quality jury _won’t_ vote for them. We have to be tactical here, Tully.”

“Okay, okay,” Garlan Tyrell from _Highgarten Republic_ says, “let’s just decide the order when we have to give them a chart. Tarth first, Baratheon second, Lannister third, the Crows fourth because Stark is Theon’s fiancé and we all won money betting on whether they’d lock lips before the last night three years ago and they deserve it just for that, everyone else we can just draw the names because they all suck anyway?”

“Down with it!” The rest of the room echoes.

Well then, Theon decides, could have gone way worse.

But fuck it, given how _bad_ Cersei’s song was and she’s going to get most of the televotes, like _hell_ he’s going to make it easy for her to win especially when three years ago she was trying to move strings so that Robb and his two pals would get disqualified and as much as Theon _loathes_ the music Robb sings, they did win it fair and square and she had no business doing it. Also, her father is an ass and he wanted to buy off his magazine to close it — good thing it _didn’t_ happen — so Theon is going to vote the _other_ Lannister that both she and her father hate if he has to pick one, and for the rest, _well_.

There’s a reason why voting from home hasn’t been the only way to decide the winner since that time that people voted for that song from _Walder Frey_ and _Roose Bolton_ that they named _Westeros My Love_ after Frey was finally freed from his years-long stint in prison for embezzling money from all the people he managed at his and Bolton’s record company. Theon has no clue of how that piece of trash song got as far as _second place_ , but the orchestra protested tearing out their scores when they heard they were in the top three, Lannister refused to conduct it and everyone breathed in relief when that kid Edric Storm with the boring love ballad managed to win thanks to good looks. Anyway: since then, the votes from home count for fifty per cent of the overall total, _theirs_ (as in, the press room’s) are for thirty percent and the remaining twenty percent is left to the quality jury, which sure as _fuck_ is not going to vote for Cersei. Hopefully.

But since he _already_ knows that both Robb, Jon and Sam and Cersei _will_ be in the top three, as unofficial spokesperson for the press room he’s _definitely_ going to make sure that at least _one_ spot in it is taken by a good song.

He does want to do this damned job halfway seriously, after all.

 

***

 

By the time the third day of this fucking circus has been rolling, Jaime has seen too many dragons for his tastes and to last him the rest of his life, Brienne has managed to actually get some decent percentages because apparently the press room has decided to vote en masse for _her_ rather than do their usual troll choice, but she’s still low as hell on the televoting percentage because they stick her at the last spot _all the time_ , and she hasn’t even performed yesterday because the second day is just the first half of the chart and the third the other half, and since she’s the last _anyway_ , well… she did gain a bit of ground, but the two obvious favorites from the audience are Cersei and the Crows, and honestly, he _really_ hopes that Stark, Snow and Tarly repeat their exploit from three years ago because at least they’re _nice_ people and sure as hell their fathers aren’t trying to rig the televote.

Or better, he’s sure that his father is absolutely trying to do it in Cersei’s favor, never mind that her dumb ballads are a hit for reasons Jaime is really not sure of and would rather ignore.

Anyway, this is the first day the quality jury votes, and he figures it’ll show _who_ might actually get a shot at the third position. He’s gone out to dinner with Brienne all evenings since the first, and one day they actually sneaked out of the hotel in the morning and took a walk together around the island, which was pretty damned nice the moment you left the fucking circus that is Daenerys’s old _family castle_ in which the festival has always been hosted and actually go on the shore or take a walk where _not everyone else is_.

And — he can’t fucking believe that some people actually bet on _who’d get to fuck her first_ for money, because on top of being a pretty nice person the moment she stops tiptoeing around you and looking like she’s a fish out of water _anywhere_ off stage… she’s smart, she _can_ write songs (he’s seen a few that she’s working on now and holy _shit_ , her first full album is going to be amazing if she can find a good producer), they actually share a lifelong admiration for Arthur Dayne’s first _Kingsguard_ formation (she agrees that from the second onwards they weren’t as good), she _hasn’t_ been an arse about the hand nor has said any of the usually dumb things people ask all the time, and she’s just… sweet and _genuine_ in a way no one in the business is, and if he thinks about how she’s with an agent that doesn’t even _get_ what she’s singing about he kind of wants to rant at how horrid the music industry is.

She deserves _better_ , he thinks. But she also has no illusions about her chances to win this, too bad because she’d deserve it.

He _does_ tell her before they have to go back.

“Please,” she snorts, “if anyone _deserves_ to win this, it’s Stannis Baratheon.”

“Okay, _fine_ ,” he agrees, “but you know that he’s just going to win with the critics and we _all_ do. Not counting him, _yours_ is definitely the best and not because the other songs suck, it’s because they do _and_ your song is damn fucking good.”

“Fuck,” she says, not quite looking at him, “you’ve been more encouraging than my own fucking agent, you know?”

“… Are you going to give me another reason to hate his guts?”

She shrugs. “It’s a her,” she says. “And she’s insisting that I just… take a step back and write songs for other people.”

“… Excuse me, _what_?”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m _hard to market_ also because I refuse to do anything to make myself _look good_ , you know, including skin bleaching apparently.”

“Who the _fuck_ is your agent?”

“Taena Merryweather,” Brienne sighs.

“… Well, she’s a friend of Cersei’s, I wouldn’t have expected any less.”

“Good to know that,” Brienne shrugs, “but I mean, I’m not going to fucking bleach my skin when it’s not like I’d look like they want me to. Also — you saw I write _personal_ songs. I don’t want to sell them to others.”

Jaime, who knows a thing or two about giving up your own dreams because other people want you to sell out, is _entirely_ serious when he speaks next. “ _Don’t_. Honestly, your music is great but if anyone else sang it, it wouldn’t work as much. And you’re perfectly fine the way _you_ are, there’s no need to bleach your fucking skin.”

She smiles slightly after, and it’s enough to make her eyes light up in a way that’s honestly breathtaking.

“Thanks,” she says. “And I got as far as here with my damned freckles, I’ll survive my agent. I mean, I’d change but she was the only one who’d take me and I tried about fifty.”

Jaime decides that before this goddamned shitshow is over, he _will_ remember if he knows someone who can help her out and find her a better one, because there’s no fucking way he’s letting her stick with Taena.

At _least_ that.

 

***

 

“Guys,” Asha says the moment their door closes for the first quality jury meeting, “please let’s just agree _now_ that whatever happens next, we’re _not_ voting for Cersei.”

“Are you _joking_?” says Pycelle, one of Westeros’s most famous songwriters and critics who has been the artistic director for the festival for years and has been called to be president of the jury for this round, “I’m _never_ giving my vote to that ghastly woman.” Right, Asha remembers, Pycelle and Cersei have had a feud since she called him an old insane has-been without taste when he destroyed her first full album on his magazine years ago. “Also, her song is _shit_.”

“That might have been a _bit_ harsh,” Walda Frey says — she’s a judge on Westeros _Masterchef_ but she also has a band she’s published a couple of records with _outside_ of her father’s company and she’s actually damn good if you ask Asha’s opinion, “but — yes. That song is dreadful.”

“Totally,” Oberyn Martell agrees, his wife nodding along. “I mean, I’ve heard it thrice and I can’t fucking remember the music. The words are just plain dreadful.”

“I’m with Asha,” Alysane Mormont says, high-fiving her. Asha high-fives her back — they’ve been friends since Alysane invited Asha to play with her band weekly in her satirical talk show years ago and it’s always nice to have someone you know having your back in this kind of situation.

“Guys,” Jon Connington from _Westeros Pride_ says, “I agree, but we need to be tactical here. You saw how things are with the press room and the televote. We need to try and do damage control. Looking at the percentages, both Cersei and the Crows are going into the top three and we’re _not_ going to change that.”

“We _really_ can’t vote for Stannis Baratheon?” Mance Rayder asks. Of course he would, since Stannis scored at least a couple of his movies.

“No,” Jon says, “he’s _tenth_ now as it is. Even if we vote for him, we’re _never_ going to bring him to the top three and from what I’ve heard from the critics’s side, they’re giving him _all_ the awards they can.”

“Well, damn it,” Ellaria says. “Okay, let’s be real. What’s the _best_ option we have that we can vote for that we might get into the top three just with our votes?”

“Miss Tarth,” Pycelle immediately says. “She’s _obviously_ the least bad of this year’s choice not counting Baratheon, and right now in between the televote and the press room being wholly behind her, she’s seventh. With _our_ support, she’d go straight to top three.”

Asha ponders it. She _does_ like Tarth, and she knows everyone else in the room did. She had a nice song, with a good, angry edge, and it was catchy, and you actually _remembered_ it after listening to it.

Also, Cersei would hate losing to someone like _that_.

“Okay,” she says, “I’m in. Brienne Tarth it is.”

“Down it it, too,” Jon echoes. “It’s a good song. Relatable, too.”

“Oh, Cersei would _hate_ it, so I’m absolutely fine with that,” Pycelle cackles.

Everyone else decides to go for her, too, and Asha grins to herself.

If both _them_ and the press room stick with Tarth and vote the Crows for second choice… _maybe_ there’s a chance in hell they’ll manage to contrast both Tywin Lannister’s meddling with the televote and have a decent song winning, and if not, some _nice kids_ might, never mind that she owes it to her future brother in law.

Right.

Tarth it is, then.

Asha kind of can’t wait for closing night, for once.

 

***

 

When Brienne hears that the quality jury has voted _her_ so _she_ is in the top three, she about wants to fucking faint.

She hadn’t —

She hadn’t even imagined that she could get this far, and the fact that the moment her name is called Cersei Lannister glares at her as if she wishes she could disappear from existence at once doesn’t help her feel any less like she’s going to fucking faint.

“Hey,” Robb Stark tells her, moving close to her side the moment they’re told that the three people in his band, Brienne and Cersei are in the final three, “don’t mind her. She’s just jealous that you’re half-stealing her thunder because your song is obviously better than hers, and she’s wanted to win for years. And you definitely earned it, don’t sweat it.”

“Thanks,” Brienne tells him gratefully, going backstage — it’s going to be a while before they’re called back on it, since there’s some more antics with actors and guests and so on and Daenerys is definitely going to sing a few more duets before they prizes are awarded. She goes back to her changing room, figuring she’ll wash her face and so on — she does, and leaves it ten minutes later because she’s getting antsy —

Just to find Jaime standing in front of her.

“Hey,” he tells her, “congratulations.”

“Oh — thank you,” she says. “I hadn’t even thought I’d get this far, but —”

“You deserved it,” Jaime interrupts her. “And — however it goes, just know that if the universe worked in the right way, _you_ would be first.”

“I don’t know about that,” she says, “but — you know, I’d have lost my shit if you hadn’t been around,” she confesses quietly.

“Guess what,” he says, “you actually made me not hate being here.”

“… Really?”

He nods. “Really. I’ve hated this shitshow since I started participating in it, but this was the first time I _didn’t_. Also, I’ve got a proposition for you,” he says. “Yeah, there’s another ten minutes before you have to be downstairs. Right. Listen, I don’t think I’m going back to conducting. I could, but I never wanted to do it in the first place. I was thinking of… radical change, so to speak.”

“And?”

“And, well, I have experience in this dumb field, and I have the money, and I think you deserve better than Taena Merryweather.”

“… You want to _represent me_?” She asks, feeling like she’s going to faint.

“I’d be delighted to,” he shrugs, still grinning like _that_ , enough that she feels like her heart is beating ten times the usual speed. “So, what do you say?”

He tentatively reaches out, touching her arm, and she doesn’t think before she reciprocates it and she ends up taking his right wrist. He flinches for a moment and she immediately lets it go —

“I just didn’t expect it,” he says, assuring her. “Not many people, well, you know —”

She moves it back where it was. “I — it would be beyond my wildest hopes,” she blurts. “But — are you sure?”

“I’m _absolutely_ sure,” he grins, moving forward and kissing her cheek, and _wait, what, has he just_ —

“Now you should go,” he says, “you’ve got at least one prize to win, whichever it is. But we’re going to talk later, all right?”

“Yeah,” she nods, feeling herself grin so hard she _is_ showing him her teeth, which she usually doesn’t, “yeah, we’re going to.”

Then she leans down, finding the courage from somewhere within her she can’t quite place, and kisses him on the other cheek before darting down the corridor.

Honestly, at this point even if she gets disqualified at the last second, she’d feel like she had won the entire first prize.

 

***

 

“Hey, Lannister?”

Jaime, who had _not_ expected Theon Greyjoy to walk up to him as he heads back for his first row seat, stops in his tracks and nods at him. “Greyjoy,” he says. “Ready to see your guy snatch a prize?”

“Hilarious,” Theon rolls his eyes. “Listen, I’m telling you this because Gendry has informed us that your father’s trashy magazine has pictures of you and Tarth taking romantic walks on the beach which they _would_ publish if you had any decisional weight in this competition —”

“What the _hell_ ,” Jaime says, “now I can’t even make friends with the competitors before —”

“Can it, from those pictures it’s obvious it’s not friendly,” Theon grins, “but then again can I blame you when three years ago no one thought to question my allegiances because _I_ didn’t vote for Robb when the day after they published pictures of the two of us frenching each other backstage?”

Jaime, who remembers _that_ incident even too well, has — for once — no possible retort, so he nods at Theon and motions for him to go on.

“Anyway, what I wanted to say,” Theon continues, “is that my sister tipped me off on where _they_ are voting.”

“As in?”

“Of course, all of them are sticking for your girl, and after your sister went to Ygritte’s show yesterday and started bragging about how she cares more about how people _love_ her than about what the critics or the mean, _mean_ press have to say about her, the few people who weren’t convinced about our general stance as a _press room_ decided that she can choke on her _support from the people who love her_ , so we’re _all_ sticking for your girl.”

“She’s not _my_ — wait. If both you and the jury _all_ vote for her —”

“There’s a fairly good chance _she_ ’ll win unless Cersei’s televote percentage are crazy high, but they shouldn’t be because Robb, Jon and Sam’s game when it comes to getting voted by _all_ their compatriots _and_ the grannies _and_ the teenage girls is strong as hell.”

“Don’t they care that —”

“That Robb and I are together and that Jon and Ygritte are flirting on her show like pros? Lannister, teenage girls _don’t_ watch the aftershow at two AM and they seem to think Robb and I are _adorable_ , so what can I say?” He winks. “So, don’t tell anyone, that was me paying you a favor, but — she has a good chance. That’s it.”

Then he takes out a cigarette and lights it up as he heads back for the press room.

Jaime, not counting the fact that he wishes his father would leave him alone, is honestly delighted at the news. She deserves that win, regardless of everything.

But then he realizes —

If she wins, she’ll have to sing again. And while he’s sure that whoever should conduct the orchestra would be glad to —

Suddenly, he realizes that if he really goes for the whole agent deal, and in that case he also should call up Melara and see if she wants to give music another chance — she _was_ good, after all, and he could come up with something to restore her reputation —, then he’s not going to do the whole orchestra conductor gig again. And he won’t miss it, but —

But maybe, if _she_ wins —

He grins to himself and goes to look for the organizers.

He thinks it _should_ be doable, after all.

 

***

 

When Daenerys calls them on stage, Brienne sticks _very much_ close to Robb, Jon and Sam, who have only been exceedingly nice to her until this point and are not glaring daggers at her. Cersei walks in front of them in her gorgeous green gown, the three of them are in their nice, sensible tailored suits and she’s in her… well. Jeans and leather jacket and combat boots and usual unkempt bun. She also refused to go to make-up beyond what they said was necessary so that she wouldn’t look like some kind of zombie on camera, which means that she sticks out like a sore thumb on stage.

Still, she feels like she could faint just for being _on the damn stage right now_ , because honestly, she can’t even believe that she got this far, and anyway… she has pretty much won the jackpot already since however this goes she’ll have a new agent

( _and hopefully something more?_ )

and maybe she’ll get to publish her record without Taena’s recommended cuts to half of the songs.

Meanwhile, she can’t help noticing that Cersei is keeping her hands inside the pockets of her gown, and that strikes her as fairly rude — especially since she hasn’t even shaken anyone’s hand outside of the hosts unless someone came up to her first. Still, it’s not her business, and so she just nods along in all the right places while she’s barely even following what everyone else is saying. It’s too much, she decides as Dolorus Edd cracks a few jokes at Jon’s expanse and Daenerys goes again into thanking everyone who’s watching from home and cast their vote and so on. That is, until Jaqen H'ghar shows up with the three envelopes with the final positions.

“So,” H'ghar says, handing out to Dolorus Edd the envelope reading third place, “anyone would say it’s time for the great reveal and we should get on with it. Edd, I think you can read the third, I can read the second and our gracious host can read the first?”

“Very well. So, third place for the 69th Westeros Song Festival goes to… The Crows, with _The North That Remembers_ , congratulations!”

Brienne had been _so_ sure that they would say her name that for a moment she freezes, but then she immediately turns towards Robb and Sam and shakes their hands as they both immediately reach for hers after hugging each other and Jon, who was near Cersei and had tried to shake her hand… except that she only gives it to him when he has his own half extended. She also does it with a certain disdain, as if she can’t care less, and… really? They’re all nice guys and they’ve been the example of politeness and sportsmanship, never mind that they look absolutely overjoyed that they actually placed, and Brienne is kind of irked that she’s barely even congratulating them.

Then she realizes that if they were third…

Oh, shit. Does that mean _she_ is the second? She’s going to hyperventilate. She is. She had thought she’d over-perform if she made the top fifteen and now she’s the runner-up?

“Wait,” Edd tells H'ghar as she opens the envelope for spot number two, “if _you_ say who is the second one you spoil it for the winner. And _she_ should probably announce her.”

“... That’s a fair point,” H'ghar agrees, graciously handing envelope number one to Dany, who takes is with a small bow and opens it.

“Silence now!” She shouts, and the entire place falls silent in a moment. “Time for the winner! Ladies and gentlemen —”

All right. Better like this. Cersei will have her moment of glory, win this competition as she’s tried to for years, no one will notice _her_ and she’ll gain advantage from a second place anyway. Win/win, right?

“The winning song of the 69th edition of the Westeros Song Festival is —“

 _Come on_ , Brienne thinks, _just say that it’s her_. No way she isn’t. _Just do it so I can go back to relative anonymity and fire Taena and worry about putting that whole record together and about my music even if after all this has been good for me, but just quit it with this waiting and waiting and waiting_ —

“ — _Money,_ Brienne Tarth!!”

 

What.

The.

Hell.

 

For a moment she stays still, thinking it was a fluke, thinking that they switched envelopes and read wrong, and she feels like her legs will give out, and then Robb Stark is shaking her shoulder and hugging her as lights turn on and off and on all around her and she can feel Sam Tarly hugging her from behind, too, and —

Wait.

Wait.

 _Did she just fucking_ win _?_

Brienne hugs them back, _all three of them_ , glances at her right and immediately moves her stare because Cersei looks so pisses off it’s _scalding_ and she’s just — not even going _there_. No. All right. All right, she thinks, forcing herself to walk towards the hosts where Daenerys is waiting for her with the small golden dragon trophy, and —

She doesn’t even stop it when _both_ Edd and H'ghar kiss her cheeks before she reaches Daenerys, too dazed to even remember that she has _issues_ with men she doesn’t know doing any such thing to her, and when she does reach their host and takes the dragon with shaking hands as confetti start raining from the ceiling and she knows they’ll get stuck in her hair, but she can’t care less, not when — _how the fuck did she even win_? She couldn’t have with her televote percentages, she _couldn’t_ —

Oh.

Unless the entire jury picked her, and the press room too, and in that case maybe she could have managed, but —

Gods. _Gods_ , she has to _talk_ now?

She also has to _sing the damned song again_.

She tries to get a bearing of herself until the noise dies down and people aren’t clapping anymore and she’s on her own and surrounded by the three hosts and _damn_ , she kind of wishes Robb or Sam or Jon was around because _they_ definitely knew how to handle this but they _can’t_ now —

“Just to make a point,” Daenerys says, moving next to her and _not_ looking at all like she has a problem with how much taller than her Brienne is, “you _aren’t_ making this up, and I can see it from the way you’re looking at me. So, anything to tell us before you sing again?”

Brienne _does_ laugh a bit at that, wishing she could get rid of her jacket because it’s suddenly all so _hot_ she can barely even breathe.

“I — wow, I just — I _might_ be a bit overwhelmed here,” she says, hoping that people find it endearing and not like she’s about to faint on stage. “I — I’m so beyond grateful I don’t even know how to put it. Maybe ask me again in the press room,” she blurts, and at _that_ she can hear people snickering, so she supposes she’s doing this somewhat properly. “I — I just, I’d like to say that this song really meant a lot to me and I was told it wasn’t a good idea to compete with it, and I’m overjoyed that it seems like I made the right choice. Thank you again,” she manages before she starts crying, not that she’s _not_ , and then Dany is nodding along and tells her to get ready to perform again, she’ll keep the dragon for her, but _then_ —

“Wait a moment!” Dolorus Edd, who had gone off stage for a moment, comes back up looking… smug? When his entire schtick is _self-deprecating humor_? “President, you need to know something before you announce the orchestra.”

 _What the_ —

Brienne stands still as he leans down to whisper in Daenerys’s ear, and then she — _grins_?

“What an enchanting piece of news!” She exclaims. Okay, now Brienne’s just completely out of her depth. “Which I’m sure the audience will love!” She claps her hands as she tells Brienne to move into position and motions for everyone else to leave. Right. She has to perform. _Eventually_.

“So, I know we _all_ missed our most beloved conductor this year,” Daenerys starts when it’s just _her_ and Brienne on stage.

 _What_.

“But, I’ve just been told that Jaime Lannister liked this song _so much_ he has personally insisted to conduct if it happened to be the winner.”

 _Oh for_ —

“So, here he is —”

Brienne immediately sees him come up to the pit, right inside that ridiculous dragon, with that damned smirk of his and dark red suit and shit-eating grin and fuck, fuck, she’s going to _die_ here —

“— and we’re ready! So, without further ado, here is the winner of Westeros’s 69th Song Festival: _Money_ , Brienne Tarth, orchestra conducted by Jaime Lannister!”

For a moment, before the music starts, she meets his eyes, and he winks at her in a way that makes her heart grow three sizes, and then he’s moving his left hand and the music’s starting and —

Well.

She _won_ , hasn’t she?

She’d better give the performance of her life, at this point.

 

***

 

“So,” Ygritte asks as Brienne Tarth sits down on her plush red couch — it’s two AM sharp and she was supposed to host the entire top three for the last round of her after show, except that Cersei hasn’t showed up while The Crows have just gone to refresh themselves backstage but will be out again later, “are you up for answering a few questions or are you still in a daze?”

Brienne laughs breathlessly, still clutching the dragon against her chest. For being such a large woman, she’s _not_ cutting an imposing figure now.

“I’m still in a daze,” she replies sincerely. “But I’ll be glad to answer any question.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ygritte cheers. “So, you said that your song meant a lot to you. Care to explain why, beyond what we can guess?”

“Well,” she says, “I — it was about some guys who asked me out on a bet.”

“They did _what_?” Ygritte _had_ figured it was about an ex, or more than one, but —

“They bet money on which one of them would convince me they meant it and, uh, well. It’s two AM, so I can, uh —”

“Please be as child- _unfriendly_ as you wish.”

“Well. The entire pot was asking me out _and_ having sex with me. I found out because a friend overheard them talking in the university’s bathroom, so — I got angry. I guess it showed.”

“Shit,” Ygritte says, suddenly feeling like the atmosphere just got heavier, but — as much as she never was _girly_ , and as much as she and Brienne have more or less the same clothing aesthetic from what she sees, so she _did_ get some flack for it, no one ever tried such a thing with her (probably because they figured she’d break their noses if she understood what they were trying to do), and now she feels like she should have phrased it better. “Well, it did, but that song was damn good.”

“Thanks,” Brienne says, sincerely. “I mean, I was angry and it had to go somewhere, and after it did… well. My agent kept on saying it was _too much_ for this kind of competition and that I had to go with some love song instead, but I really didn’t want to because… you know, it was bad enough I had to go through it, but then others shouldn't hear it because it's uncomfortable for _them_? Also, I didn’t think I had a chance in the seven hells to win, so… why not, you know?”

“But you won,” Ygritte says, “and in between you and me, I hope those guys feel like shit right now.”

“In between you and me, I hope the same,” Brienne answers.

“So,” Ygritte goes on, “before I invite back on stage our guys and I ask if you’d be up for a fairly indecent proposal —”

“Such as?”

“Oh, just the four of you singing something together, nothing _that_ terrible. But before then, can you tell us what are your plans now?”

“That’s — well, I want to focus on getting my record out. I only have a few EPs available because of, uhm, issues with the recording company, but hopefully now I can just publish it the way I wanted. And maybe I can finally tour after. That’d be nice. After that, we’ll see.”

“One last thing. In her press room interview, Cersei Lannister has referred to your win as, quoting, _the press room obviously favoring a younger girl when it was obvious the audience wanted differently_. Care to share your opinion about it?”

Brienne bites down on her lip, then looks straight at her with those large blue eyes, and —

“I could say something mean and point out that if _looks_ were the issue, anyone would have picked her over me,” she shrugs, “but I don’t think it would be fair to either me or her. I worked hard on that song, I put all of myself into it and I wasn’t expecting anyone to like it. I mean, I’d have felt accomplished if I made the top fifteen, never mind winning. I might be young but I worked my arse off for years in order to get where I am, I love this job as much as I don’t like the scene and if someone saw it, well, I can’t say I’m sad about it now, can I? I know I won thanks to the juries and not because _people at home_ voted for me, but maybe it’s time that I show them why I wasn’t such a bad choice and maybe next time they’ll pick me, too.”

“Now that’s how I like people to answer,” Ygritte grins. “So, do you think you’re up to sing for us along with those other three?”

“I’d be delighted,” she grins.

Ygritte grins back and decides that she’d have rather interviewed _her_ over Cersei Lannister a hundred times over.

 

***

 

**TV, SMILES AND DRAGONS: A GUIDE TO WESTEROS’S PALINSEST**

_**All the Secrets of Westeros Song Festival, inside this very special issue!** _

by Gendry Waters

 

 

> This edition of the festival _certainly_ was a blast, and we can’t wait to tell you all about it in this very special edition of _Tv, Smiles and Dragons_ , with fifty pages _just_ about Westeros’s favorite music competition!
> 
> First of all, we have to regretfully inform you — as you’ve mot likely noticed — that Cersei Lannister has _not_ showed up for the ritual cover picture for our magazine. Her reps would not answer the calls.
> 
> Anyway, surely this has been an edition full of surprises and plot twists: no one would have guessed that it would be relatively unknown songwriter Brienne Tarth to come victorious out of it, and a lot of people have guessed _other_ things, given that Jaime Lannister has gone out of his way to conduct the orchestra during her final performance and according to the entire press room he _definitely_ was looking at her like she was the sun and the entire theater revolved around her. Adding that he’s going to represent her from now on, we can maybe presume that _things happened_ behind the scenes, but who are we to protest when it sounds just like a very beautiful fairytale?
> 
> But without further ado, feel free to discover everything about this edition in the next pages: with previously unseen before pictures, interviews and gossip, and if you want to know about Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark’s upcoming wedding, they’ve told us _all_ about it in the last interview!

 

***

 

“What the _hell_ ,” Jaime says, “was Gendry Waters on when he wrote this?”

Brienne, who had been staring in horror at her Twitter account on her phone, puts it away and turns back towards him, the bedsheet covering her naked frame.

“Be more specific,” she says, “that entire _special issue_ was a special trip in itself.”

He snorts, moving closer. “Well, according to him, _Jaime Lannister has gone out of his way to conduct the orchestra during her final performance and according to the entire press room he definitely was looking at her like she was the sun and the entire theater revolved around her_ , and while I don’t doubt I was staring at you like a lovestruck fourteen year-old, how fucking old is he, twelve?”

Brienne snorts, grabbing the issue from his hands. “Huh, he _really_ wrote that,” she says. “I’m — flattered, I guess, but —”

“Shut up,” he says, “you were _great_. And that cover actually is adorable. You all look like long-time best friends.”

Brienne closes the magazine and looks at it again. All right, _fine_ , he’s not wrong — she’s kneeling on the ground with the first prize dragon in her hands, wearing her usual get-up but after having gone a round through light make-up, which means she looks _slightly_ better than her usual, and admittedly she’s smiling _really_ genuinely as Robb Stark and Sam Tarly lean down with an arm around each of her shoulders while Jon Snow is in the middle of them right behind her with his arms around his bandmates. It _is_ a cute picture, she decides.

“And my sister would have just spoiled it, so better that she hasn’t showed up.”

“Yeah, except that all of her fans are apparently on _my_ Twitter feed now,” she groans, turning the notifications off.

“Ignore them,” he says, putting an arm around her waist. “She’s been crying on all of her social media since yesterday, but never mind that you won fair and square, _that_ song was the worst conceivable drag ever and I hope Pycelle destroys that record the moment it’s out. If then he praises yours, nothing lost.”

She smirks, unable to keep it in, and if you told her two weeks ago that she’d end up sharing a bed with _Jaime Lannister_ out of everyone after singing in with _his_ new agency and having been given free leeway of doing whatever she wants with her record, she’d have laughed in your face.

“You know what,” she says, “if _this_ is what stardom brings other than the usual pains, I might start seeing the perks.”

“Good,” he smiles back, “because you _know_ that now that you won here _you_ will have to represent us at Essosvision in three months?”

Brienne, who had _absolutely forgot that winning the Westeros Song Festival meant going to Essosvision_ , breaks down in laughter without even trying to put a stop to it. “Oh, shit,” she says, “but it’s all glitter and about who’s more flashy, what do _I_ even do there? Can’t I just sit it out and say I want Robb, Jon and Sam to go instead? They _did_ almost win it, three years ago.”

“You _could_ ,” he concedes, “but come on, do you really want to give up the chance to participate in that complete trip of a competition? I can assure you it’s _way_ funnier than _ours_.”

“Hm,” she says, leaning down so she’s almost kissing him, “if you come with _maybe_ I can consider.”

“Are you kidding me? Of _course_ I want to come to Essosvision. Hell, I could ask them if they’ll let me be the official commenter for the WBS, so they’d pay for both of us.”

“I could deal with _that_ ,” she says, and then he says that he’ll absolutely ask, and she leans down fully to kiss him again, and _again_ —

All right.

She’d have never bet a cent on it, but this Westeros Music Festival deal? Best thing that ever happened to her. And she’d do it all over again.

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> FURTHER NOTES:
> 
> \- Tyrion and Bronn's entry is based on this year's [obvious troll entry, Achille Lauro's _Rolls Royce_](https://www.lettera43.it/it/video/sanremo-2019-quarta-serata-duetto-achille-lauro-morgan/36245/standalone/) (it should be visible on that link but in case: the guy sang about loving his rolls royce while lying on the piano, it was so trolling I couldn't even);  
> \- Stannis's and Davos's entry is based on this year's [Argento vivo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rP_y812oEe0) by Daniele Silvestri which was OBVIOUSLY the best song of the bunch by far;  
> \- Ygritte's aftershow is the Dopofestival ie a show that's been around for years around two AM where people actually sing the good stuff/joke around/don't make you want to fall asleep every ten seconds;  
> \- Jaime's role is *kind* of based on one of the most popular conductors for Sanremo who has directed the winning song four times and is basically a meme (in the good sense) because everyone loves him and when he DOESN'T go to Sanremo everyone is like :(((((;  
> \- As stated before, _Westeros My Love_ is a play on 2010's entry [Italia Amore Mio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0c4_mSqnXx8) which was honestly a level of trash I can't even explain;  
> \- All the magazines mentioned are plays on Italian music magazines (one of which is defunct RIP THE WILD BUNCH I MISS YOU);  
> \- Dany's hits mentioned in the beginning are all more or less revisited titles of Claudio Baglioni's (this year's conductor) most popular songs even if I guess it took imagination.
> 
> PHEW I'M DONE, but.... BEFORE YOU GO, I NEED TO DO THE ADVERTISING IE: IF YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC AND YOU'RE EUROPEAN OR AUSTRALIAN, [CONSIDER VOTING MAHMOOD FOR THIS YEAR AT EUROVISION](http://janiedean.tumblr.com/post/183401634228/di-elle-xliveterna-italy-at-eurovision-2019), THANK YOU VERY MUCH YOU'RE A DARLING IF YOU DO AND DON'T WORRY HE'S THE LITERAL BEST AND SOLDI IS AN EXCELLENT SONG. ;)


End file.
